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Seijuurou woke up warm and comfortable, covered with exquisitely soft blankets and a solid, light body pinning his legs. Ryouta was straddling his knees and staring at him; Seijuurou could feel the weight of his gaze even without opening his eyes.
Ryouta must have been sitting there watching him all night – even with the impossible lightness of a fox spirit’s body, Seijuurou’s legs were stiff from being kept in one position for so long. It was incredibly annoying how familiars seemed only to need sleep when it suited them – usually when they could stretch out and refuse to move during very important meetings with other exorcists where proper bearing did not include having a fox napping on the clan heir’s lap. When Seijuurou wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week after dealing with a particularly troublesome spirit, Ryouta was fond of staying up for days at a time.
One of the blankets twitched, and Seijuurou realized he was not surrounded by blankets at all, but the lush, furred bulk of Ryouta’s golden tails spilling around him, tickling at the underside of his chin. It occurred to Seijuurou that he could not remember having made it to his bed the night before. Dealing with corpse eaters, particularly those that thought the menu included an exorcist’s still-living flesh, was extraordinarily taxing.
“Ryouta,” he said, and lifted a hand. There was no need to open his eyes.
Ryouta swarmed forward like he’d been let off a leash and nudged his head against Seijuurou’s upheld hand, one ear conveniently at the perfect angle for Seijuurou’s fingers to stroke. Ryouta was not subtle unless Seijuurou made him be, but Seijuurou did not have it in him to resist at this hour of the morning; Ryouta’s ears were just as soft and warm as the plush velvet of his tails. It was a trick of foxes designed, Seijuurou was certain, to drive their masters to distraction.
“Good morning,” Ryouta caroled with irritating brightness. He leaned in to nuzzle at the pulse point of Seijuurou’s throat and his tails all shifted at once, drawing in around them, scenting every inhalation of air Seijuurou took with warm musk and the crisp sweetness of mandarins. It was heady and addling.
After a moment, Seijuurou realized Ryouta was drinking power in off his skin, the draw of each breath unmistakable and ticklish as it brushed at the core of his spiritual energy.
Ryouta settled over him, hands braced to either side of Seijuurou’s head and sharp nails pressing into the down of the futon. He wasn’t heavy; he never was, too much wind and foxfire to have any real weight. It was still enough to pin Seijuurou down if he wanted to.
Ryouta lapped at his neck. His tongue was hot and a little rough. Seijuurou shuddered, opened his eyes. The smile curving Ryouta’s mouth was infuriating. He had to take hold of Ryouta’s hair, drag him down, and kiss it off his lips. Foxes were far too smug for anyone’s good.
“You were distracted yesterday,” Seijuurou said when they finally surfaced. Ryouta’s mouth was red and kiss-swollen, and he was trying to look contrite – and doing a very poor job of it. The attempt wasn’t helped by how Ryouta kept licking his lips, resembling nothing so much as a cat remembering cream as he chased traces of Seijuurou’s power.
“Sorry,” Ryouta said, not sounding it at all. His ears were perked forward, mischief in their tilted angle, and it was an annoyingly good look for him, made even more annoying by how he was perfectly aware of that fact and used it regularly and to great irritation. Ryouta turned his head and mouthed at Seijuurou’s wrist, trailed his lips over Seijuurou’s skin, and pressed a kiss to the thin white scar that sealed their contract on Seijuurou’s palm.
Something shocked up Seijuurou’s spine. The weight of the contract settled heavy and expectant around them, like a storm charging the air.
“Don’t be so careless again.” Seijuurou tightened his fingers in Ryouta’s hair and pulled him up so they were nose to nose. Ryouta’s slit-pupiled eyes were glowing golden with the strength of Seijuurou’s power; he looked feral, hungry, like he would eat Seijuurou up. The shining pearl woven into a red braid on Ryouta’s heavy, formal robes chimed like a bell, high and clear.
Seijuurou pinched the pointed tip of Ryouta’s ear in rebuke. Ryouta only contrived to look innocent and bent his head for another long drink of power straight from Seijuurou’s mouth. Seijuurou did not deny him. He was not the only one who had been drained by their duties the day before – it was not even the first time Ryouta had expended so much power that he required Seijuurou’s help to maintain the human form Seijuurou preferred.
Ryouta’s mouth was soft against Seijuurou’s, pliable and enticingly hot. Annoying. Foxes were maddening even when they were behaving.
“If you won’t learn, you might as well make yourself useful,” Seijuurou said. Ryouta bowed his head beneath the firm hold of Seijuurou’s hand with a soft, exasperating huff of laughter. His tails curled closer around them like a nest.
“Yes, Akashicchi,” Ryouta breathed, and let Seijuurou guide him down. His nails pricked at Seijuurou’s pale skin as he pulled off the thin cotton pants Seijuurou wore to sleep, but didn’t leave even a red scratch.
Ryouta’s mouth was hot and wet, intent as he sucked Seijuurou’s cock down. He was shameless in his skill and greedy. Seijuurou ran his fingers through Ryouta’s hair, petting, let Ryouta take his pleasure, and felt all the lingering tension of his irritation drawn out of him by the slow movements of Ryouta’s tongue and the soft, eager noises he made.
He came in long, shuddering waves, and Ryouta swallowed it all, pulled off Seijuurou’s cock and licked at it with slow, long swipes of his tongue, cleaning any traces of the mess from Seijuurou’s skin. When he was done, Ryouta rested his chin on Seijuurou’s hip and licked his lips with as much evident enjoyment as he’d had for the draught of Seijuurou’s power.
Seijuurou closed his eyes, felt and heard the soft rustle of Ryouta’s tails as he settled himself more comfortably, curling around Seijuurou with a satisfied little hum like he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.
Foxes were intolerable.